Mort has visitors
by welovedarcy
Summary: My first story. Basically, Mort's psychiatrist says he needs visitors, so she arranges some. They're not the kind he was thinking of... REVIEW OR FEEL MY WRATH! Now complete.
1. Unexpected visitors and chapter 2,oops

DISCLAIMER:dont own anything(except the souls of the fangirls)...its all Stephen King's and the director's.

It was a nice, bright sunny day. A HAPPY day. Emphasis on the word HAPPY. It was not in any way a day for murder, arson, robbery, theft ect.

Yet Mort was inside his lonely house (which is surprisingly big for just one man and the ghost of his dead dog), asleep on the tattered sofa in a tattered robe. Notice how cute his "morning/bed hair" looks. Hang on. Its not morning, it's a little past midday.

Lazy git

Just because he went mad and killed some people in weird ways doesn't mean he gets to sleep in. Stupid Mort! You have to write something. Even your stupid "bad writing" is better then nothing. But as usual you shall tell your editor your dead dog ate it and she will send you back to your so-called "personal helper" (a.k.a goddam psychiatrist with a shiny new degree, a shiny coffee mug, shiny hair and shiny new breasts bought by the shiny coins her patients give her). She refuses to see you after the "incident involving a y-fronts dance". Imaginative, yet probably not the best way to get yourself out of being asked how you feel and to draw a picture about what you think of: your divorce/wife (she suggested an unhappy face. Mort drew his wife as a playboy bunny), Ted your wife's lover (you drew a shovel. She looked very worried about this. Especially when you kept saying "we must wait my preciousss…no scheming in front of Miss Arnold…yes we shall kill her, yet we must wait my precious" even if you had watched all of the Lord of the Rings DVDS with all the bonus footage that would not be acceptable.) Your dead dog Chico (you drew him eating the dinner your housekeeper had made just for you. Miss Arnold laughed, yet shut up when you drew a screwdriver and his head). Then she told you that you must have visitors more often.

She arranged some.

That's why you didn't run away…you thought maybe you had a chance

. And you were running out of corn…

that's why your at the door now. Answering the rhythmic and strangely familiar knock…

"Shit".

there on your doorstep stood Michael Jackson, glowing with unearthly light. That is until the source of the light stepped to the side. "Sorry about that" said God,"I get a bit nervous with strangers". Prize goes to the person who could guess what he said next. Yes, you were right….

'Double shit"

**Chapter 2**

You decided you definitely did "not" need to smoke. Your did "not" smoke your way through 2 packets while stroking your strange facial hair and tossing a screwdriver from hand to hand. Having God and Michael over had made him finally realize he couldn't kill everyone. I mean, one of them wasn't human! So he would have to get rid of God first(the easy part), and tell Michael he wasn't a believer. Yet having God around was a big help. They had deep and meaningful conversations about the best way to convince chicks that you only care about their mind, how to stand up while drunk and got in a heated debate about whether Yogi bear does exist, if you are really supposed to say "On-ve-lope" or "En-ve-lope", and if there was a female version of Yoda.

Michael was far less productive. Several crazy fans knocked Mort over as he was harvesting corn and then proceeded to wreck the house as they were searching for him (Micheal was pretending he was a woman and getting envious glances from Johnny Depp's fan girls while also wondering what could have driven him to such low standards).

This annoyed his housekeeper, as most stuff did. Visitors less chance to ravish Mort. Fan girls: people to kill her before she ravished Mort. John Shooter: man to get Mort wondering out of the house, less time to ravish Mort. Not getting divorced yetNot truly allowed to ravish Mort(well…she didn't REALLY care about that, but still). Psychologist: Woman to distract Mort from her rival for ravishing Mort.

She finished cleaning before blowing the obsessed fans away with a shotgun she had inherited from her father. Her father, Billy Bob Joe, was always a redneck southerner at heart. The, in true American fashion, she spat on the corpses, shook her fists and yelled (her voice had a southern drawl it didn't have before…)

"Y'all keep away from ma Mortay! Aaaaway ya hear me? Gooood…"

Audience: umm…we may have to comment about that…

Narrator: Oh no you don't

Audience: Oh yeah?

Narrator: draws audience killed by shovels and screwdrivers and then grins wickedly Really now?

Audience: Ok…maybe not…tug nervously at collars

Fan girls: We do! How could she love Johnny?

Narrator: Good point. Strange 45 year old cleaners should not love the perfect one. Yet what can I do? I've got a story to write, I have to plan a way to kill Michael Jackson and how to get rid of you fan girls…I'm swamped.

Fan Girls: Did you say you were going to get rid of us?

Narrator:(nervously) No, of course not…. anyway, back to the story…

Mort looked down at the corn. Only one was left intact. He sobbed openly…

Mort's Brain: Should you really care about this? Its only corn after all

Mort: Shut up brain! Or you may find yourself fertilizing these babes!

Audience: Did he just refer to his CORN as "babes"?

Narrator: smiles evilly maybe….BWUHAHAHAHAHA!

Audience: Riiiiiiiiiiight

Mort's Brain: OK…suicide may not be the way to go Mort…

Mort: who said anything about suicide? I've managed without you so far…

Mort's Brain: Except a few dead bodies and a burnt downhouse on your conscience…

Fan girls: You cant kill Johnny! Death to the narrator…death…death…hey! There's ice cream! (fan girls decide not to kill me to buy ice cream) not just any ice-cream! STRAWBERRY ice cream!

Narrator: Yes, that makes a difference. Of course it doesshifty eyes

Please review! will update soon...


	2. Chapter 2:Mort wants a bed

DISCLAIMER: don't own anything ok?

Well, I'm back. The fan girls are almost all gone, and mort is looking out at the woods…

"Hmmmm (strokes mini beard), isn't it strange that I live right in the woods, by a big lake, and yet there are no bears or even giant killer eels" said Mort, to himself. God and Michael had packed their bags (or, had the housecleaner do it, while wearing a surprisingly revealing nurse uniform) and left…so Mort was alone. I told him that grizzly bears could be arranged. He told me he like the bear in "Bear and the Big Blue House"(please note: if you have no clue about the aforementioned children's program, then substitute it for something with a bear saying "geez, what naughty ferrets!"). Yet what mort did not know is that he was about to get ANOTHER surprise. Yes another one, this plot just cant be Mort running around in his underwear going mad (fan girls glare at author). So, again the doorbell rings….Mort barely notices. The John Shooter part of him does and the author decides to make him quote something weird (with stuff inserted) to make her sound intelligent…

"Do not ask for whom the doorbell rings Morty, for it rings for YOU! MUHAHAHAHA!"

"Whatever…" sighed Mort, clearly not noticing the author's genius.

"Hey! Cut that out!" he yelled. Just because I threw an old boot at him, softie. He shuffled slowly to the door…

"Well hi there Morty!"

"Oh my god….."

There standing at the door step was Pamela Anderson….

"Are you my next guest?" said Mort, looking around the house and wishing it were cleaner and that he actually had a bed…

"NO! I just came to drop off the Adams Family…."

"SHIT!"

Well, please review…


	3. Chapter 3:Cliched Mayhem

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Adams Family, Johnny Depp(sigh), Friends(best show ever) or any clichés which may come up………………………….

It was kinda awkward that day. Having the Adams Family around made the house instantly grow creepier, and Wednesday wouldn't stop poking him and shaking her head, "Mummy, he's too thin!" she would wail from time to time. Thing would get down his trousers. The only one he felt he could talk to was Uncle Fester. But the conversations would go like this:

"Well, Fester, do you like…corn (look of longing comes into Mort's eye)?"

"OOOH! Corn! How do feel on Abba! They good? (Twisting hips, starts singing, doing a pretty good falsetto) "Daaaaancing Queen! You are the Dancing Queen, young and sweet, only seventeeeeeen! Dancing Queen, feel the beat from the tambourine ohh jaaa! You can dance; you can jive, having the time of your life  
Ooo... see that girl, watch that scene, diggin' the Dancing Queen!"

"Oh…my…GOD"(Mort buries his face into his hand, a dozen fangirls over the world wish they were his hand…)

"HEY! THAT'S MY CLICHED LINE!" shouts an angry Janice…

"Honey, what you doing'? We don't belong here…" Whispered Chandler, gently leading her away…

"Nice place by the way (nervous laugh, then notices The Adams Family). Yeah, black, good look in the…um, country…bye" Chandler makes a hasty exit…

"Sigh I wish I could have a decent conversation without SOMEONE popping up"

"Learn how to be strong you must. How to ignore interruptions you must learn. Hmm?"

Mort shoves Yoda into the bin, after taking his light saber

"Hmm, flashy…"

"Look, Mort gotta glowie thing! I want it!" screamed Puglsey…

"No dear, we do not kill our gracious host…Lurch, fetch us some dinner" Mortica said.

"I know, lets fatten him up ourslefs! Do him a favour!" Yelled a drunk Gomez

"Oooh, yes! DINNER!" Shouts Fester. Mort casually kills him…

"You are learning well, young Rainwalker…(does the breathing thing), now embrace your destiny and turn to the moderately dark side!"

"GAAAAAAAARH! I HATE MY LIFE!" Mort starts randomly chopping off body bits…

"ooooh…can we eat THOSE bits mummy?"

"Yes dearest"

"The Addams family are now happily tucking into Mort…

"I'LL GET YOU FOR THIS! IF IT WERENT FOR YOU MEDDLIN' KIDS…!"

"Hey dude, chill out. I mean, Zoinks, we 'aint done nothin' wrong, have we Scooby?"

"Ruff Ruff Shaaargy (translates as: No way Shaggy)"

"Oh, ever so sorry, do except my sincerest apologizes…" Yells Mort, continuing to cut off body bits…

"HEY! That's been done before!" The audience sighs as the author introduces the cast of "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" since mort is now just a torso…but before he can reply he is kicked over and they leave…

"Thank God everyone's GONE! But how will I get up? HOW CAN I LIVE!"

"MUHAHAHAHA! MUHAHAHA! Die you must!" Says a forgotten Yoda…

Mort shuffles over to the bi, despite it being physically impossible, and kicks Yoda with his legs, which don't exist. So all in all, a happy chapter ending. Yet does the story end here? NOOOOOO! HAHAHA! READ ON YOU MUST!

Ok, please review! I know this chapter was just a leeeeeetle bit random, but you know, you know shifty eyes….


	4. 4Dunken Yobs with the groove of Abba

DISCLAIMER: don't own. Don't own. Don't own. Whatever.

When we see Mort next, he is fully limbed again for some mysterious reason which no one yet movie directors can understand. Mort was not looking forward to his next guests. How he rued the day God left. When the doorbell ringed, he decided not to open the door. Instead he lay down on the sofa, ready to fall asleep. Not many people know that he is actually seeing if he can beat the "lazy ass person" record. Or so he says. I personally think he has unsolved issues and just wants to ignore his problems. Man, he has issues. Anyway, he couldn't sleep for long, since someone was bashing down the door. He woke up eventually when someone chucked corn at him. This got him angry…

"Corn, sweet corn…HANG ON! SOMEONES BEEN MESSING UP MY CORN! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRR!"

And then he stormed over to wear a (slightly) sheepish bunch of The Sex Pistols were standing. "It wasn't us mate…asks that dodgy (rude gesture) blonde in "Abba" drawled Johnny Rotten…

"NO! IT WASN'T ME! Please believe MEEEEE!" after that, the um, "dodgy blonde", Agnetha Fältskog (apparently…), spent most of the evening after that rocking in the corner, occasionally screaming "So when you're near me darling can't you hear me SOS the love you gave me nothing else can save me SOS when you're gone how can I even try to go on when you're gone though I try how can I carry on….SOOOOS!" While Bjorn patted her shoulder from time to time, reminding her to think happy thoughts, such as the night they crossed the Rio Grande, or how the stars shone bright for liberty, or when children dance and sang in those rooms, or when the super trooper lights made her feel like a number one…OK. I could go ON AND ON about their song lyrics, yet let us not the forget the Sex Pistols getting our dear Morty drunk. He was currently dancing on the table in his underwear…hang on, listen…sound of a million fan girls storming to Lake Tashmore…. OH well, I'm pretty sure Mort didn't get hurt. He was having the time of his life. Dancing and twisting, trying to sing "Jumping Jack Flash". The Sex Pistols were OK too; they were also trying to sing. Yet they were singing "Night Fever", trying to do the movements, but they were unsuccessful since they were also trying to chat up missy mee and beat up a lampshade called "Bob" at the same time.

"Mort Rainey?" Inquired missy mee,

"Your 200 crates of beer accompanied by a dancing reincarnation of Bob Marley has arrived. Are you jammin' Mr. Rainey?

"Whaaaaaat?" Mort had joined the Sex Pistols trying to to chat up missy mee. She giggled, yet it was all part of the service.

"Oh yes giggle giggle, your latest visitor has arrived"

"But…But it's all right now, in fact, it's a gas! But it's all right, I'm Jumpin' Jack Flash, It's a Gas! Gas! Gas!...suuuurry, these ARE my guests, riiihgt? pokes Sid Vicious and starts a proper bar brawl. Despite the fact mort does not have a proper bar, one has appeared and missy mee is helping the author take down all the glass bottles"

"I'm afraid not giggle, blush"

"Missy me, are you drunk?" inquires our cute, sober (apparently), author

"NOO! Oh what a niiiiiiight! Why did it take so long for me to see the light? Seemed so wrong yet now it seems so right! What a lady what a niiiiiigth!"

"Ok, then I guess I shall join youauthor jumps up to sing with missy mee and do the can-can, forgetting to write about the next guest

"HEY!" yells the next guest…

"Chill dude, freak out with us! Play boggle and dig the Abba sense of fun!" says a rather flushed Bjorn…

Little Bo Peep decides she would rather sit prettily at the edge of the bar than play boggle. She shined with a Radient light, her clothes were in pristine condition, she was disapproving of the drunken yobs, she hated all…

At least, until the authoress and missy me shoved her into a puddle of beer. We hate competition.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

I hope missy mee allows me to use her name. PLEASE REVIEW! Please, please…

joins Agnetha Fältskog in singing "SOS"…


	5. Mort gets a haircut

Disclaimer: Do not own. Really…shifty eyes

Mort was getting bored. The author, who had forgotten about him since he didn't get any reviews, had just LEFT him with Little Bo Peep.

"Bah. All that pathetic author does is dance around singing David Bowie songs…" muttered Mort, on that couch. You know the couch I mean. Morty loved that couch. Many things had happened on it. It was where he first discovered the love of his life (sleep), his favourite past time (sleeping), excitement (dreaming) and adventure (hunting for the corn fallen down the side).

"Don't worry Mort. I was having a hair cut. If you want, I can make sure you have a wild time tonight with Bo Peep over there" Winks me, the author.swings shiny hair

"You had a hair cut! Why can't I have a haircut? Morty wanna haircut!" Wails Mort. Little Bo Peep hears the racket and tries to soothe Mort. She gently sings him a lullaby...

"What is that CRAP? Why do I CARE about a bloody STAR? I don't like things that twinkle…only corn. Corn, with its sweet, delectable style and grace as it tosses its hair as it steps out of the ocean…hang on, that was a movie! Oh well…"

Audience stares at Mort

"What?"

More glaring from audience

Mort shrugged, he didn't notice the author magically change the time so it was night time. So as not to be torn apart form the fan girls (who had by now finished their strawberry ice-cream) she made sure the stars did not twinkle with her Bruce Almighty like powers. Using these same powers did Bo Peep (hereafter known as Puddin' Head) come down the stairs. Wearing revealing lingerie. fan Girls glare. Author ignores them, yet even she is embarrassed at how Puddin' Head is walking down those stairs. Normal woman do not wiggle that much. Or have an ass that perfect. Author agrees with Fan Girls that she must have had liposuction and start to write a trashy tabloid article on her…

"Mortimer…" She whispered, "Close those scary, ragged curtains on the lonely wilderness(he lives alone…all alone in this place)…"

"Okay…I guess." Replied Mort, telling the voice in his head to stop wolf whistling…

"Do I look okay? I mean really, my perfect toned body is a little odd sometimes…"

And that was when the fan girls burst through the window, screaming for blood.

As mort tried to fight them off, he got his wish. A haircut.

While the chaos raged, the author stands calmly in the background…

"MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Look, is this about you or Mort?" Asked the audience,

"Mort, definitely Mort shifty eyes. Now…who wants to dance? nervously sings "Video killed the Radio Star"…."

Mort was exhausted, he didn't care anymore, those fan girls could do anything and he wouldn't care….

"NOOOO! NOT THE CORN!" says Mort, who spoke just that little bit too soon.

He looked around, stroked the facial hair once more (there has been much speculation about why he does this, I say to get food out of it. Others say to make it grow so he can look like a proper hobo).

He looked around Bo Peep was knocked out, there was a conveniently placed shotgun left by the house cleaner and he was the only one who could stop them…

"Meh, I'm going to get some well earned sleep on my couch… sleep"


	6. In which we explore the door

Disclaimer: Don't own

Mort had not slept well. He had the dream again. You know the one where you see what your life could have been? Mort was living in a large house in France, with a beautiful wife and two small children. He had a great job, still couldn't get rid of those fan girls though. It was on that thought that Mort woke up. He had drugged the fan girls, now lying hopelessly on the floor. He kicked one in despair…

"Hey! This is fun!" Mort cried in joy, as the audience wondered why, oh WHY hurting others made him so happy…when there was the inevitable knock at the door.

Mort was almost looking forward to it, that dammed psychiatrist was actually right…

He opened the door. We don't know anything about the door, not even Stephen king cared about this door which has featured so much in my story. Aw, we feel sorry for it, don't we audience?Glares DON'T WE? Good. I shall call it…Bob. Bob had lots of interesting memories. He remembered the day Mort moved in, shortly after the previous owner of the house got murdered by a giant rat…

"Giant rat? The estate agent didn't tell me of a giant rat…he said he was murdered by Jordan/Katie Price leaping on him! That's the whole point of buing this house!" Said an outraged Mort…

Fan Girls: Lalala…mort only loves us and we shall NOT kill Jordan/Katie Price…

Audience: Sure. Denial. Classic defence mechanism. SOMEONE doesn't want to face reality….

Fan Girls: Shut up! We just like a pretty colour that's all….

Back to the plot…

"Speak of the devil…"

"Hello Mortimer! How is my FAVOURITE (she winces, remembering the y-fronts dance) little psychotic patient!"

"Oh hello, Mrs Arnold."

It was the psychiatrist herself. The evil brunette (to show her intelligent side. But it was dyed, she was actually blonde, cue supposedly funny joke) who had caused Mort so much anguish.

"Jus there to ask how you were. How did you find the visitors?"

"Okay. I didn't know you had so many contacts…"

"Oh, I do. winks"

"Riiiight…please come in. Have you got something in your eye?"

"No. But YOU are the apple of my eye…"

"Excuse me while I fetch my shovel, our as I prefer to call her…"

Audience screams: HER? HE CALLS HIS SHOVEL A SHE?

Narrator: shhh! Let the nice crazy man continue…

"I call her Betsy: The huge killing implement of fluffy DOOOOOM!"

All: Riiiiight…back away slowly…

"What? Is it WRONG to name my shovel?"

Narrator: Of course not Morty, just very…um, different. Yes, unique!"

"Oh. That's okay then" Mort walks into the garage, which, unlike the rest of the house, is immaculate. It all becomes clear, hideously clear, when mort pulls back some curtain(audience wonders who actually has a curtain in their garage) to reveal: The Shrine. It has Betsy, it has corn and…

Narrator: Mort, are those scary dolls used in ritual sacrifice?

Mort; Maybe…shuffles feet

Narrator: I want you to tell me what you did is WRONG!

The flow of this conversation is interrupted by Mrs Arnold…or is it?

Yes of course it is, silly. Or maybe-don't start that again!

"Morty? Mort…come here…" says Mrs Arnold, oh how very innocent this woman looks…

"Mort, I have something to tell you…"

"OOH! Are you confirming that Michael Jackson, John Travolta and Patrick Swayze are all the same person?"

"NO! Mort, you have got to get over that obsession. Just because they all have those scary, freakishly similar legs does NOT mean they are the spawn of Satan…anyway. What I was GOING to say was…"

"That you really DID stalk your high school maths teacher?"

"HEY! That was pure coincidence that I happened to be where he was…anyway, how did you know about that? Ahem, well, it didn't happen…and stop finishing my sentences with…"

"Uncanny accuracy?"

"OH I GIVE UP! You will never know how I truly feel about…"

"Jim Carrey? I saw the way you looked at him when we watched the films with the drug addicts. Bruce Almighty? Oh yeah…to show them that they COULDN'T do all that on magic mushrooms…"

"Well, to be there some of them could fly…"

"That was the superhero drug rehab…"

"Oh yeah! Now…"

"I gotta go. I need to watch the summon on my ancient TV…"

"Is there any point? beats chest and pulls hair I LOVE YOU MORT!"

"Really, that's nice…bye"

Mort wondered why she didn't leave and just stayed screaming in his garage, yet didn't give it a second thought…

Narrator: Fan Girls…was that you?

Fan Girls: whistle innocently No…hides manual entitled "How to Hypnotize in 2 seconds flat"

Random chapter! Please review…..


	7. Creepy Phone Dude

Disclaimer: Do not own-duh. I think you intelligent readers get the point by NOW!

Dedication: To Twilight-Cullen. Thanks. Oh, and missy mee who has stood by this story for so long. People, read her stories or may you be killed by a sofa falling on you off a very tall building…

Mort was worried. Ever since his psychiatrist had "somehow" (yes fan girls, I'm talking to YOU!) died in his garage the visitors hadn't come. Mort had in fact taken to talking to a little sock puppet called Ringo…

"Yes, my leeeeedle Ringo…what's that you say Ringo? You want to smoke some pot? Well, I can't see anything wrong with that! Do we Ringo?"

Audience: Right, WHAT THE HELL?

Narrator: Meh, we needed someone to take drugs…

Audience: Sure we do, because EVERY story needs a crazy junkie…

Narrator: Glad you see it my way. Now shut up…im bored and the plot needs to develop…

Audience: Because this is SUCH a SERIOUS work of great literature…

Narrator: Sarcastic comments hurt! May your televisions only get the weather channel!

Fan Girls: HELLO! WHERE IS OUR DARLING MORT?

Narrator: Oh yeah…

The telephone rings. Not very ominously, Mort changed the ring tone to play La Cucaracha. He had once looked up the words on the internet; it turned out to be about a cockroach that can't walk anymore.

"Oh Ringo. Remember the internet? In those good ol' days when I had electricity…when I actually paid my bills I mean. When I could sit at home and rub peanut butter on myself…."

Stunned silence from the audience. The fan girls have all fainted from that particular mental image…those dirty, dirty obsessive freaks

"Yes Ringo, that was the life. NO! Of _course _I love you more than Amy!"

Audience: He loves a damn SOCK PUPPET more than his wife!

Fan Girls: Huh, if he was married to US then he wouldn't have to look to a sock for comfort!

Random Fan Girl: Amy must have treated him reeeeal bad…LETS GET HER!

Cue film: The Fan Girls get down Psycho Style!

Narrator: Anyway…back to the story…

That phone was still ringing. Mort wondered why. People did not usually call Mort. Not after the unfortunate incidence when he "accidentally" danced around the neighbourhood naked….

"Hey! It was only the one time! And I was wearing SOMETHING! Okay, admittedly just a cowboy hat, yet STILL!"

Audience: SOMEBODY can't hold their drink…

The fan girls have once more fainted. No one really cares though

"Okay, okay I will answer the phone…"

And so he does….

Creepy Phone Dude: Mort, the time has come….

Mort: OH! Is it the end of the world ALREADY?"

Creepy Phone Dude: NO! What have you been smoking?

Mort: Meh, the usual…

Creepy Phone Dude: Um, that was a rhetorical question…

Mort: I know! wonders what the hell "rhetorical" means. Decide it must be something to do with the area of circles

Creepy Phone Dude: Anyway…it is time for you to join us…

Mort: Oh no, last time I joined a cult I got sent to a Russian prison for seven years!

Creepy Phone Dude: I MEANT to join us I celebrating world cookie day!

Mort: Riiiiiiight…I get you, you're the Mafia aren't you? I thought that horses head thing was suspicious…

Creepy Phone Dude: Okay, you got me. Now, just pay us the money and leave the town. For the love of God you are THICK! I'm you new psychiatrist! It's a standard procedure to see you just how mad…sorry, I mean "Unique and special" you are…

Mort: OOOH! OOOH! Am I unique and special? Please tell me yes!

Fan Girls: Look at those puppy dog/ Puss in Boots eyes!

Audience: Yeah, kind of makes you fan girls wish you hadn't have given up your incredibly successful careers in psychiatry up, doesn't it?

Fan Girls: Don't make fun of us! Just because we quit school to become models doesn't mean we're not PEOPLE!

Narrator: Actually, according to the New York Corn Treaty of 1922, you're not people if you do that. You're considered as mush…

Fan Girls: giggle well shut my mouth!

Audience: glares at author That was evil. Keep it up!

Creepy Phone Dude: well Mort, you are very special.

Mort: YAY! We like Mr nice psychiatrist don't we ringo?

Creepy Phone Dude: Um, my name is Matthew W. Wilkins…

Audience: OOH! His middle initial is cooler than ours!

Narrator: It actually stands for "whatever". I couldn't be bothered to think of anything….

Creepy Phone Dude/Matthew "Whatever" Wilkins: So Mort, I'll see you Tuesday, at around 2:30 okay?

Mort: I can't, I'm washing my hair…

C.P.D/M.W.W: Fine, how about first thing Thursday

Mort: You are such a charmer aren't you? Okay darling…

Audience & Fan Girls: EEEEW!

Narrator: See, we are all one when it comes to sick comments aren't we?


	8. The New Guy

Disclaimer: DO not own. But take a while to consider mailing me the things you own, and the fact that I am on a writing ROLL baby! Sorry. I will spend the rest of this story in a dark hole…

Mort was looking forward to Thursday. He had discarded Ringo (he has gone on to bigger and better things. Namely, he is the new face of Levi jeans) and had gotten drunk for the first time in ages…

Audience: Oh, we wondered why he got "M.W.W Thinks I'm Special!" tattooed on his chest…

Narrator: Um, no. He wasn't drunk when he got that…

Audience: oh. OH!

Fan Girls: KILL M.M.W! KILL! KILL! Wait, who is he again? Never mind, lets go watch 21 Jump Street! We love you Morty!

"Mmmm…Matthew Whatever Wilkins my sweet psychiatrist of doom…I can't wait to give you some of my home grown corn…."

Thoughts along those lines kept Mort busy until Thursday.

"Mort and Matthew! Aren't we just made for each other!"

Narrator: Before the fan girls kill me…

Fan Girls: DAMN RIGHT!

Narrator: Then I would like to point out its probably just a side affect of smoking pot for three days in a row…

Fan Girls: Okay, that's good! Morty loves us still!

Audience: Look who else has had a go at the pot…

Fan Girls: "whistle innocently"

The time had come. Mort had washed his hair, put on his best suit, his most ridiculous beanie hat and driven to his appointment…

"So what I'm six hours early? It's GOOD to be early! In fact, maybe I should just go and sit outside his house, safe him the trouble of going into work…"

Narrator: Um, Mort? Some people call that stalking…

"Oh you can't talk!"

Narrator: Oh yeah…continue, continue…NO! Don't do it Mort! You will end up living a worse life!

"Worse than being a schizophrenic southern redneck who goes around killing people with shovels and making corn porno?"

"No…and what the HELL are you talking about? Corn porno?"

Fan Girl: Tralalala, again, not hearing a thing…

Audience: You have a sick, sick mind, you're worse than the fan girls!

Fan Girls: I wonder where we could find a bikini made of corn so Mort would come home with us…

Narrator: You were saying?

Audience: Comment withdrawn. Proceed…

"Okay, I shall just wait in my little car…"

After he had driven his old car over a cliff Mort had brought himself a golden pick up truck…

"Shows my southern roots AND is classy!"

Audience: yes Mort, classy…whatever you say…

By this time (A.K.A the time it takes for the author to run out of conversation ideas) it was time for Mort's appointment…

Matthew: So Mort, in Mrs Arnolds records…

"Yes Doctor?"

Matthew: Um, could you take your hand off my thigh? It's kind of distracting, and you can call me Matthew if you like…

Fan Girls: BURN MATTHEW! BURN HIM AT THE STAKE!

"Sorry…Matthew. So, tell me about yourself…"

Matthew: Um, back to your files…

"You read my files? See, I told you Shooter, Matthew likes me!"

Matthew: Yes, of course I like you Mort. Now, it says here…

"You know, I didn't imagine you as the type who would have a beard. I guess it makes you look all dark, broody and intelligent. It sends out a clear message. That message is: "Women, I am lonely. Please massage my back while we listen to Bob Marley"

Matthew: Great. I only have a beard because I am a psychiatrist. All male psychiatrists must have beards. It's like a law…now. Let us get on to your mid life crisis issues…

"So you admit, the beard is a mid life crisis thing? Well, I can help you there…"

NOTICE: Mort has been bound and gagged for the rest of the session. We have translated his muffled screams for your convenience…also, the audience comments and fan girls wild protests have been deleted due to the obscenity of said comments…

Matthew: Okay, Mort. Mr Rainey. Your case is very interesting. You are schizophrenic…

"Am not! I was just so lonely without Amy…"

Matthew: Tell me about Amy

"Well, being with her was like…like…you know that song? "I believe In Miracles"

by Hot Chocolate…

Narrator: God bless the radio and its good timing…

Matthew: Yes…do you feel like you did not deserve her? Or possibly that she did not deserve you?

"You're sleeping with her aren't you! OUT WITH IT! Good Lord, I thought you were different! No lies, but you slept with my ex wife…you're both dirty hos!"

Matthew: Ah, I think I see what the problem is…

"Well, I thought THAT problem had stopped ever since I burnt down all motels in existence!"

Matthew: You need a new girlfriend. May I recommend a fan girl?

Fan Girls: Our hero!

Audience: Hey! How come the fan girls can comment yet we can't?

Narrator: Shush my little ones…

"NO! All I want is more visitors…"

Fan Girls: Aaaaw...

Matthew: I don't have as many contacts as your previous psychiatrist, yet I'll see what I can do…

"Could you loosen these ropes? I want to get a little more comfortable Doctor…

Matthew: I'll let security drop you off home and I'll see you again next Monday…

And thus, mort was drugged and sent home.

Authors Note: missy mee/jess, please do not kill me. For it is only you who gets all these manic references about the dude I love…sucker! NO ONE CAN SHARE THE BURDEN! Sorry…please review. I get lonely otherwise…


	9. In which there is canoodling

Disclaimer: I do not own this thing. It is the brainchild of me, root beer and bagels. Yet legally the whole shebang isn't mine. Love counts for nothing these days…

Mort was dancing happily around his little kitchen. He wasn't cooking anything, it was just the nice clean surfaces and all those happy little knives just waiting to be used…besides. Mort couldn't cook. He HAD tried to enjoy raw meat, but it wasn't worth all the movies jokes it has had. So Mort was dancing and singing and movin to the groovin'….and waiting for his Chinese takeaway. Despite the fact he lives in the middle of some woods and the nearest town is just there so it could be used in westerns where everyone commits suicide and drink beer. No way did that place have a takeaway. But magically, Chinese food appeared at his house. Mort had a theory involving flying monkeys…

"Hey! There is evidence they exist! How could anything on the Simpsons not be true?"

Audience: Um, has no one told him it's a cartoon?

Fan girls: Shut up! It shows his child like innocence!

Audience: Girls, he is a psycho who goes around killing people with shovels

Fan Girls: So?

Audience: Nothing. Tralalalala….

Fan girls: What is up with them?

"Excuse me? I thought I was the main dude here!"

Narrator of this sorry tale: No, it's really all about Madonna's rise to power…

"Oh. I'm sorry. I shall go and die somewhere in a cramped space...then my remains can get squished by a sofa with Amy and Ted…THE EVIL ONE!... Making out on it…"

Audience: God, what issues

Fan Girls: Can we join him in the cramped space?

Narrator: For the love of Elvis Presley! NO! Besides…in a psychological point of view those issues are incredibly interesting!

Audience: What the hell do you know about psychology? All you have done is watch "Spellbound" too many times….

Narrator: It's a really good film!

Fan girls: If it don't star our Johnny, it is nay worth a watching'

Audience: We would have to agree with the fan girls here, apart form the way that sentence was constructed…

Narrator: It was made before Johnny Depp was born!

Fan Girls: Sure Narrator, great excuse…

Narrator: That is not the point! What I was trying to say was…

The heated argument was stopped suddenly; Mort was looking a little worried. The fan girls rushed to comfort him, this brought Mort back to reality and he shoved them off…

"I'm sorry. My…my parents divorced when I was very young…"

Matthew: Hmmm….interesting Mort. Tell me about your parents…

"Where the fuck did you come from!"

Matthew: Meh, I sleep behind you sofa so I can do things like this…

"So…so, you still love me?

It is very emotional. Mort couldn't even be crying…

Matthew: No you little shit face.

"Okay"

Matthew: Now…

"Hey! You shaved off your beard!"

Matthew: Fwah, aren't I sexy? No. Back to the point…

Narrator: Aw, don't worry Matthew; you will always be sexy to me…

Audience: Um, narrator? Hah, DON'T DO WHAT YOU WERE JUST ABOUT TO DO! Get a grip! He's a damn fictional character!

"Fictional whatta?"

Audience: Ahem. We said nothing…ignore us Mort…

By this time Matthew is looking incredibly scared, but gentleman he is…

Narrator: Like James Bond!

Narrator no. 2: I can't believe you would interrupt your own story!

Narrator no. 3: Shut up! Let her type out her fantasy you fool! As Matthew is really just some guy she likes shoved into her story at random...

Narrator: Where did you guys come from? Besides, Matthew is NOT just "some guy"

Narrator no. 4: Nowhere. Ahem, we are not your other personalities…and no, he sint some guy. He is someone more than twice your age and...

Back to the story beforethis breaks out into world war three.Matthew continued analysing Mort despite the fact the Narrator is going kind of weird now…we shall ignore her.

Matthew: So, did your parents divorce affect you?

Mort: No, not really. But according to some statistics, if your parents divorce, you are more likely to divorce…

Matthew: So you blame them for you divorcing Amy?

Mort: No…

Matthew: Okay…

Mort: I blame that absolute bastard Ted! THE MAN MUST BE ROASTED SLOWLY THEN EATEN BY FAT, UGLY AMERICANS WATCHING AMERICAN FOOTBALL!

Matthew: So, you've given this um, a LITTLE bit of thought…

Mort: No, you just don't get as much satisfaction when you just leave them to be beaten to death by old ladies wielding umbrellas…

Matthew: Great…great…

Despite the fact Matthew is disgusted; he jots down some of the ideas for future use. Johnson would pay for what he did…oh yes…

Matthew: TAKE PHOTOS OF ME WHILE I SLEEP WILL YOU? DIE!

Narrator: um, how about we take a break and get some frozen yoghurt?

Audience: You watch your "Friends" videos way too much…

"Look, aren't you supposed to be helping me? And why can't I have people trying to chat me up?"

Fan Girls: Hey! What about us Mort? Don't you love us anymore?

"Okay. That's why I don't…"

Matthew: Look, I am too busy being canoodled to really care because this is the only action I have had in years, so why don't you just try going down to the gym with…I don't know…a simulated version of Muhammad Ali and beat the crap out of something labelled Ted?

"Ooh! Can I be listening to Michael Jackson's "Beat it"? Please…"

Matthew: Oh okay, I can't resist those eyes…

Fan girls: Sigh, neither can we. Hmm, there are many dark alleyways near the gym…MUAHAHAHA!

And thus the fan girls threw on their various pink, fluffy, um, sequined cloaks of doom and planned to ravish Mort…

Narrator: AHEM! Back to the canoodling…

Matthew: Right. Mort…

"Why are you making those shoving motions with your hands? Is it some kind of signal?"

Matthew: I know it's your house and all…

"I don't mind, it will take me back to my married days…yes, watching porno after dark while Amy was committing adultery…

Narrator: Mort…

Matthew: Dont worry honey,I can handle this. LOOK! CORN! ITS ONLY FIFTY MILES AWAY!

"OOOH!"

And thus Mort ran, ran away to the imaginary corn. A bouncing and a signing his little heart out….

"Ashes to Ashes, fun to funky, we know Major Tom's a junky…"

Audience: Narrator? Couldn't he be singing something a little more…you know…

The audience realise the Narrator is too caught up in her fantasy world, and indeed, the newly shaved Matthew Whatever Wilkins, to care.

Audience: Right. Well, I hope he's feeling lucky…

And that is where we leave this happy tale.

Oh, not forever. Just long enough for me to have breakfast. Besides, it's a nice scene:

the fan girls doing there best to sing David Bowie, Matthew not noticing the newly Clint Eastwoodafied (it could be a word!) audience coming after him with some kick ass shotguns and a happy couple rolling around on the sofa...

And… and for some reason Zorro was there, he shook his head, mounts his horse and rides majestically into the sunset while whispering sweet Spanish swearwords and random lovey-dovey (still in spanish) stuff to missy mee…until of course, they do actually ride into the sunset and are almost burnt to death and Bruce Willis has to rescue them…


	10. The finali mean it!

Disclaimer: Do not own yadda yadda…

The narrator realises the last chapters were written simply to satisfy her own lust and decides to get back to the plot…

So Mort is walking to the gym which magically appeared in the woods. He was to meet his new guest, the simulated Muhammad Ali, there. Mort was feeling good again. Everyone was so kind to him, pointing out to him where the corn was, trying to ravish him….

"Hey! That wasn't nice! They were slobbering!"

Fan Girls: ALMOST slobbering! ALMOST!

Audience: Sure you weren't

Fan Girls: Thanks for believing us! See narrator, SOME PEOPLE are nice!

Narrator: They really are dumb aren't they?

By this time Mort had reached the gym...

Random Dude: Sorry, the simulated Mr Ali couldn't be here today, he was "ill"

"Oh great. Even the simulated guy gets more than I do!"

Narrator: Don't feel so bad Mort, what about Margaret Thatcher?

"Good point. I shall never complain about that again…"

Random Dude: So…I shall help you beat the crap out of some punch bag labelled "Ted the Bastard" today.

Fan Girls: Aw, isn't he a sweetie, helping out our little Mort?

"Yes…finally a chance to let out the anger inside which first arose when Mazy Valentine beat the crap out of me when I was 5 years old…."

Narrator: Um, why?

"Meh. All I did was steal her underwear and try it on…."

Matthew: Hmmm….the fact that he steals underwear off little girls tells us something VERY interesting which um, the fan girls may not want to hear…

"Why, why must my psychiatrist be everywhere?"

Matthew: Because I am secretly Buddha…

Fan Girls: Did he just imply that Mort was GAY?

"Hey! I prefer the term "homosexual!"

Audience: God are they slow today….

Narrator: Whatever let us leave "Buddha" over there to have his brains whacked out…oh don't tell me the fan girls have lost interest ALREADY!

Fan Girls: What? We just got distracted by um, building a temple to our God Mort, is there anything WRONG with a bit of religion!

Audience: It is if you were just about to sacrifice Matthew on that altar over there…

Fan Girls: We weren't! HONESTLY! Please don't make us leave Mort….

Random Dude: My mum always said I should have just worked with evil world leaders but noooo; I just HAD to get dragged into this. "Come on Bill! It will be fun!" they said well HAH…

"Yo! Dude? My training?"

Random dude/ Bill: Sorry. I shall snap out of my dark and tortured mind to help you let out YOUR anger… you selfish bastard you…

"Glad we got that sorted"

Mort spent the next couple of hours punching uh, "Ted the Bastard". He was really enjoying it and hell; he had destroyed ten punch bags already!

Bill: Okay, a: those things cost money and b: have you ever considered getting some help?

"What with?"

Bill: Um, never mind. I didn't, cough, mean your obvious mental problems…

"Oh, those! Why didn't you just say? I already have some dude, yet he doesn't do anything except look attractive, make out with the narrator and pop up at inappropriate moments and insist in watching the porn with me…"

Narrator: Hmm….Matthew?

Matthew: I didn't! I swear on that hot chick we DIDN'T watch last night…

Mort: Oh yeah, the random Brazilian ho…

Narrator: Excuse me while I hang myself in this convenient barn…

Bill: Oh, I watched that too!

Mort and Matthew: Good wasn't it?

Audience: Ah, men joined in the love of Ana-Eliza Rivelino…

Narrator: Am I the only one who doesn't watch dirty late night TV around here?

Bill, Mort, Matthew, Audience and fan girls: Yep.

Narrator: Good Lord…

Bill: Whatever. Now that you have let out your anger and released your mental anguish of losing your wife, what shall you do?

"Kill Ted."

Bill, Matthew, Audience, heck, everyone except Mort: Nice one Mort…

What do you think? I know, I know. But this story is now finished. FINI! I shall make a sequel in my bad state of health…watch this space. Well, not this space, more like, your inbox, for I shall return! MUAHAHAHAHA! Sorry. You have full permission to kill me.


End file.
